Manifest Destiny
by Lila Toretto Barton
Summary: Ianto Jones knows some unbelieveable things. This includes the fact that there are certainties in his life and lineage is only a part of it. Jack/Ianto This was orginally Bekha but she has given it to me! Enjoy
1. The Past

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Orginally by Bekah but she has given it to me to continue**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: Teen for now**

**Warnings: in later chapters may contain adult situations and violence/ spoilers for all seaons of 'Who and Torchwood**

**Disclaimer: they're not mine, I'm getting nothing from this but fun**

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**1. The Past**

Ianto knows everything; this isn't a boast, it is fact.

He prides himself on this, on the power and conception of his memory, and is ever ready with a word or a thought or a coffee.

His knowledge is only seconded by his intuition.

This is why he keeps a diary, why he needs to write the events and thoughts he experiences, for there are times when one threatens to overtake the other; when wisdom has overtaken life.

In a box hidden in his closet, buried where no one (not Lisa, not Jack) has ever been, he has laid the ones that came before.

Every so often he opens one and looks in at his life, reacquainting himself with himself, on the days when he is merely the servant of Torchwood.

This is what he finds.

This is what he knows.

At first there is only sun and fields, wide open spaces and a secluded little house. There is mother, who is radiant and aloof and oh so loving. Her voice, while holding crisp words, speaks to him in only soft tones and she tells him of adventures and journeys and all the things that make up the universe. She is all he knows at first, but that is fine. She is love and he is happy.

Time passes and a man comes, dressed in darkness and burning with strange vibrant ideas, but his hands are gentle. His mother is uneasy though she doesn't show it, but the man is welcomed all the same. She leaves them alone in the field and the man tells him of more wondrous things, planets and species and escapes and time. He pays attention to the language of time that the man spins around him and his breath catches, swept away in its pulse, and is left longing in the aftermath. When his mother sees that the man means him no harm, she welcomes him into their house, and for awhile, the man stays.

The man is called father.

Mother gives him compassion and love and loyalty. Father gives him wit and cunning and intelligence. With warm eyes she speaks to him of what can be learned and what can be changed, and the things that shouldn't. With burning eyes his father tells him of the things that can be undone, and the things that can be controlled, and of the things that will be his to know. His mother gives him books and laughter and touch. His father gives him time and fierceness and style.

Every choice is yours to make, she says.

Time is yours to take, he says.

His mother gives him a useful tool that is vibrant and opens possibilities; a relic from travels past, she calls it. His father looks strange when he sees it but says nothing, until later; his father hands him a stopwatch, and it burns strangely in his grip, and his father calls it a relic from the future. His parents regard each other in silences and distances, and he feels that it is only him that makes them a family. And yet, a family they are.

This lasts for as long as it can, mother is constant, and though father always leaves, he always returns. This is fact. This is certainty.

Time splinters when the others come and tear him away from his house, from his fields, and from his mother.

Father isn't there.

They are men in bright and violent robes, and their hands hurt as they hold him away from what he loves. He is afraid and he is alone, and when they speak to him he feels as if he is being torn asunder.

He soon understands that it is not him that they want, but his mother, and his father. There is war coming and his parents are needed to fight. His mother is brutal in her words; spite and anger fly through the air towards the men, words like blades flung with skill.

"You would use my son against me? Would _he_ still help you if he knew what you intend?"

It hadn't mattered; they had taken him. The men say that it is for his protection, but he knows better: he is ransom for his parents, for their cooperation, and he is a prisoner in exile. He can feel her in him, pushing knowledge at him, and he buries it, hiding it away, wrapped in layers of her love; she is desperate but honorable, and he knows that while she will do what they demand, she will always be searching for a way to return to him.

And deeper, in a secreted place that not even his mother is aware of, he hears his father rage against this, and the vow that he will find his son rings out above all other thoughts.

It echoes like a drum beat in him whenever he rests, and with all the need of a child, he reaches towards it always.

The day it goes silent is the day Ianto remembers with a clarity that will never fade.

It is the day he came to earth.

He was young, older then he looked, but still a child. The men were right about the war, and when it came, he used the knowledge his mother had pushed upon him and escaped, opening a rift that navigated E-space and followed the road that the Rift paved through time and space, the watch his father gave him clutched in his hand. He arrived, alive and small and shivering, and had lain in the street for hours before he was found. He could hear voices around him, burying him in questions and intentions, and though the hands were more gentle then the others, he was still bundled like linen and carried away.

This is the time that he will never be sure of, that he will never recall. From recovered reports he now knows that he was nearly comatose when found, and that the doctors had called it shock and malnutrition and that he endured all sorts of trauma. The special doctors had been stated as saying that he was in a form of psychic stasis resulting from a massive mental shock. Which, from what he knows now, was fairly accurate; after all, his race had just been destroyed. His mother no longer called for him in his mind, and the beat of father was still.

The watch sat in his hands, silent.

When he came to himself he found himself in a private hospital where, upon awakening, he was treated to the best and most attentive of care. He had a room to himself and while there was no one there his age, he was never alone. And though he was treated well, it was obvious that he had merely traded one prison for another.

This is how he came to know Torchwood.

While he may share his knowledge freely, Ianto hoards his secrets. There are things Torchwood never knew, even though he had been theirs for most of his life.

And he is more his father at times, then his mother.

These are the things he learned at Torchwood.

The ordinary are often overlooked, so he makes an effort to be as ordinary as possible.

He finds it easy to slip under their radar, as he has been in the tower so long that he is an accepted mascot for them to parade around; the unique and interesting boy that came through the rift. He gives them his time and his words and his servitude. He gives them hot coffee and frozen smiles.

He doesn't give them his wisdom and knowledge and insight. When he sees an artifact that he knows, he turns the other way, he takes it; he flocks to the young ones, the ones that haven't heard of him, and cultivates their image of him. He waits until the upper level staff has been distracted with the anomalous energy, and then enters the system to change his records. When Yvonne Hartman takes control, under the direction of the upcoming minister of defense, he is merely another low level staff member. An archivist and an administrative assistant.

He waits and watches and hides in plain sight.

There is only one person who knows that he is more.

This is how he meets Lisa.

He is regarded as Torchwood One's more precious, and precocious, secret. He knows that he is more different then Torchwood knows, or thinks they know. They watch him and use him, but they never see the oddness of his blood or hear the double rhythm of his hearts. They marvel at his mind, but never look further to see the potential he buries.

He meets her while he is making coffee, and she comes up behind him to watch him put the grounds in the machine. Her presence at first is like most of the people who work at the Tower, a noise to be filtered, but still catalogued. It is only when she speaks that she enters into his world, that he truly sees her, and (in looking back) he is never sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

She says: "I wondered why your coffee is the best; you measure the amounts of bean, grain, and water to mathematical perfection. How do you get the ratio right?"

Out of everyone, she saw him. He had been called OCD, anal, compulsive, and Lisa merely brushed the words aside. Months later she would admit that she had read his file, his real file, and he was awed that she still accepted him as he was. That she loved him as he was. She took him from the Tower and into the world, and through her he came to experience the better parts of it. When he slipped up she would be there to cover for him, help him hide, acting as lover and protector and companion.

Through her he lived.

He feels torn about the destruction of the Tower. It had been his home for so long that a part of him mourned when it fell.

The other part rejoiced.

The deaths, the destruction, are not what he wanted, however. He had truly had friends there, and though they had not known him in the way that Lisa had, they still were his. He shed tears for them, and would always regret their passing. At the time, however, Lisa was his world; sealed in the deepest archives, he had broken the mainframe in order to escape, driven solely by the need to find her. When he did, a part of him died.

And another part was born.

The hours, the days, are lost in the tides of pain and rage and suffering. But his hands proudly wear the scars of construction, and later he would marvel that he, and he alone, built the machine that held his precious, that kept her breathing and kept her safe. In that time they must have been one; his hands bleeding over her body, over the metal of her skin, and each tear and whisper bound them ever closer, until they were of one mind. One purpose; He would save her, she begged to be saved, and he would use all he was to accomplish this.

His mother gave him choices, his father gave him cunning, and he would use both.

He managed to recover the mainframe, and buried in the ruin of the Tower with Lisa a steady presence beside him, he brought up all the information of Torchwood. The power he needs can only be found in one location, at one place, and only one man had the ability to get him to it. He would still hide but, this time, it was on his terms; this time it would not be him that would be used.

He needed the Rift.

It was time to return to Cardiff.

It was time to find Captain Jack Harkness.

He falls asleep curled next to Lisa on the converter, hoping that the steady beats of his hearts would reach her through her pain and comfort her; his beloved watch, his only surviving possession, pressed close against his own chest. Dreams of another time, another war, chase him down into sleep.

Like a lullaby, a steady beat lulls him past the nightmares and into rest.

The watch begins to tick steadily in his hand.

This is what Ianto knows.

On this planet he was, and always will be, a servant of Torchwood.

For the ones who see him, truly see him, he would give everything.

His father will always return.

These are certainties.


	2. Everything Changes

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Originally by Bekah but she has given it to me to continue**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: Teen for now**

**Warnings: in later chapters may contain adult situations and violence/ spoilers for all seasons of 'Who and Torchwood**

**Disclaimer: they're not mine; I'm getting nothing from this but fun**

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**Everything Changes**

"_Oh hi, sorry I'm late. Someone ordered pizza_?"

Ianto watches this woman, this girl; enter the Tourist office with wary eyes.

This could be the one, he thinks, that could change everything; this is the one that could be dangerous. Gwen Cooper is a vivacious and spirited woman, dogged, and she reminds him of Lisa as she had been, when she had pursued him in the Tower; how she had been persistent with gaining his favor, his affection, his attention.

And now this young PC has caught Jack's attention and she's pursuing the Captain and Torchwood with the same determination that Ianto fears. Because, for the first time since Ianto had been in Cardiff, Jack is sitting up and taking notice, no longer distracted, no longer distanced, no longer shut up in his office with the Hand and his thoughts.

No, Jack has finally opened his eyes and is seeing.

And Ianto fears, for as Jack is finally taking notice, how long until he takes notice of what Ianto has hidden in his basement?

It had been so easy, so incredibly easy for him to sneak Lisa into the Hub; it had actually been harder to get Jack to hire him. While he had hidden his own files, he had read all of Torchwood's, and it was what had been implied that had said more than what had actually been written about Jack Harkness that led Ianto into the dance the two of them had performed in that week; give and take of words, sex and coffee, and when that hadn't worked he had resorted to intrigue and a dinosaur.

Months later he still wasn't sure if it was Jack falling for his sudden charms (and suit) that had got him the job, or if it had been the dinosaur.

Compared to Jack the others had been easy to win over: quiet and shy Toshiko, degrading and sharp-edged Owen, and the aloof Suzie. A single day of good coffee and immaculate service and they had been his. And as he had gone about his duties, as familiar as he fell into the patterns of being invisible, he had slowly felt Jack's suspicion fade into acceptance and flirting, and his goal had been accomplished.

And now Lisa.

These are the parts of himself that he hates, that he buries and closes off, and has only let Lisa seen on rare days when Owens's barbs, Jack's innuendos, and Suzie's condescension wear him down to what he was in the Tower; she had been the voice of calm in his rage before, and continued to be even through her pain, and he lets the thoughts of her strength give him his.

Yet the anger still remains, still churns, and if not for Lisa he would delete this existence and walk away. He watches Owens's self-respect crumble and says nothing. He watches Tosh pine and hope and offers no words of comfort. He sees the dying of Suzie's sanity and is silent. When he's alone in Jack's office and the Hand twitches in his direction, he moves away.

The darkest parts of him know how easy it would be to just kill Gwen Cooper, end her possibilities, and how it would simplify everything despite the _wrong_ of such actions. He fears what his mother would think of him for these thoughts.

Somehow he knows that his father would approve.

But the woman who waits in the tunnels of the Hub stills his hand, and on Jack's say so, he opens the door to let her into Torchwood.

Later he will delete all evidence of them from her life.

For now, he will smile.

Cooper stays. Suzie's gone.

Suzie's dead.

He isn't sure how he feels about the fact that Suzie's gone, and Gwen most assuredly is taking her place. Regret, possibly, for the loss of such a vibrant mind, but sadness? If it wasn't for Lisa, perhaps-- Suzie was a threat, but Gwen is the lesser one.

He hopes.

At Jack's instruction he locks the Glove away and watches the interactions of the two, how Jack simultaneously attracts and repels, and how Gwen is succumbing to his charm. He would call it pathetic, but, isn't he the same? He isn't a fool, and he isn't careless, yet there is something about Jack that invites freedom, and freedom is something that Ianto hasn't had for a long time. Jack may be a temptation but Ianto is realistic; Lisa has him, and even if she didn't, he had seen the way that Jack dealt with the aliens that came to Cardiff. Ianto was the one who had to clean up the blood and the intestines and refill the stock in the armory.

No.

Jack is a temptation that Ianto would do well to avoid.


	3. Day One

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Softball Angel**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: Teen but may change later**

**Warnings: Spoilers for Torchwood and Doctor Who; Also minor violence and maybe some sex in later chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who; if I did Ianto, Owen, and Tosh would still be alive.****3. Day One**

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**3. Day One**

Ianto's mother had once said that it's the little events that shape a universe.

It was just after his father had started to visit. His mother, supposedly immersed in her books, watched this, and when his father had gone always took him aside. It is choices, she would tell him; the greatest power in all of creation was choice, and what a person did with theirs, for good or for ill. Ianto has been too young to understand the gravity of her words, and decades later at the Tower, he was given evidence of it daily. Always selfish, always for ill. It had been Yvonne's choice that doomed the Tower and the hundreds of people within.

It was his choice to save Lisa.

But, as he tends to Myfanwy, he feels for the first time what might be regret.

It's not Lisa; Ianto will never regret anything concerning Lisa. Whatever the outcome, whether he succeeds or fails, he will never regret his choice. Yet, as he hears the laughter of the others, the ease in which they interact, he regrets what he chooses for himself. He could have left; he didn't need the Hub, he just needed to be on the Rift. And even if it makes things easier, he could have made do without Torchwood entirely. But Torchwood was all he knew. Save for the rare instances with Lisa, it was all he had experienced.

He was the slave who, once freed, still returned to his cage.

He's going through the final paperwork dealing with Gwen's recruitment when the phone rings. It's Jack's phone, not the Tourist Office's, and as the others are out at the pub he is the one to answer it. It was one of the bad days; Gwen had released an alien threat which had been the cause of several deaths, his new calibrations for Lisa's life support were fluctuating which caused him to find excuses to keep running to the lower levels in the hope that she still lived, and without her he had been stupid enough to draw attention to himself.

"_Just narrow the numbers down, I can check through the rest. (_They had stared at him.) _You know, the old fashioned way, with my eyes."_

He can clearly recall the odd look on Jack's face, half amusement, half speculation. He can recall the way that Jack's attention had strayed is way far too many times that day, and not just when he hungered for coffee or flirtation. Ianto had drawn more than a passing glance.

"You stupid pillock," he sighed as he made his way into Jack's office, folders still held loosely in his hands. With a deft finger he manages to hit speaker-phone. "Torchwood Three, Administrator Jones speaking."

The voice in his ear was jovial. "Ah, Mister Jones! This is your Minister of Defense, how are you tonight?"

Ianto unconsciously straightened. "Mr. Saxon. I'm afraid that Captain Harkness is not in at this time—"

The Minister let out a chuckle, and his voice wraps itself around Ianto. "No worries, this isn't an urgent matter. I really don't need to talk to him. I was just curious how everything was going, I mean, we don't hear enough from Torchwood Three down here in London. How are you?"

There was something in the tone, in the inflection, that struck Ianto as being, off. "I, I'm pleased to say that we're doing well."

"Hmm, that's good to hear. I mean, after that tragic attack at Canary Warf, and wasn't it just a few days ago that a…Suzie Costello shot herself? My, that's too bad. Seems like a high stress environment. Added on to the training of new personal. You don't get much free time, do you?"

Ianto stiffened. "Sir, you," he stuttered. "You seem to be quite knowledgeable of our state already."

The Minister laughed as if waving the words away. "Do I? Well, I'm just trying to stay informed. Trying to avoid past mistakes and all that. Can't have any repeats."

Ianto found himself struggling to find breath, as if weighed by a great pressure. "No," he managed. "No, we can't."

Again there was that soft laugh, that knowing laugh, and Ianto found he could draw breath once more. "Ah, how foolish of me. Look at the hour! I'd best let you get back to it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight sir," Ianto moved to press the off button when Saxon spoke again.

"Oh, and Ianto? Don't bother telling Jack about this. I'll be seeing him soon anyways."

There was a click and then a dial tone.

With shaking hands Ianto placed the files on Jack's desk and backed out of the office, eyes glued on the phone as if it might attack at any moment. He wasn't sure what bothered him more; the knowledge that he, and Torchwood, was under surveillance or that Saxon knew his name when he had never spoken it.

Unsteadily he made his way through the corridors and to Lisa, his pulse racing in his veins to a familiar beat, and even as he found comfort in it, he knew that there was something wrong. He fell into the room and after re-checking her systems; he curled himself in the sleeping bag next to her and tried to calm himself. His hearts beat wildly, and while he knew-and every instinct screamed at him-that he should tell Jack right away, another part held him back. There's something, he thought, something I'm missing. Lulled by the soft whoosh of Lisa's respirator, he drifted off.

When he awoke, he vaguely remembered that there had been a call, but he couldn't recall from whom. He taps his fingers against the metal side of the cybernetic shell.

_Thrum-thrum thrum._

His earwig beeped. "Ianto, how about a cup of your gorgeous coffee?"

"Yes sir, I'll be right there."

It must not have been important.


	4. Ghost Machine

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Softball Angel**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: Teen but may change later**

**Warnings: Spoilers for Torchwood and Doctor Who; Also minor violence and maybe some sex in later chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who; if I did Ianto, Owen, and Tosh would still be alive.**

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**4. Ghost Machine**

Ianto was once told that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

This is an idea that he knows well, and never as apt as when he is struck with memories of his early years in the Tower. He had been hitting puberty (or the human equivalent), and the chemical changes in his body were of great interest to his hosts. Most of that time was lost, thankfully, for what kind of person wishes to remember having appendages cut off to see if the excess energy would grow them back? Genetic memory informed him that the brilliant light and buzz that filled him was natural, was akin to a human's growth spurt, and it filled his mind with strange thoughts and memories and knowledge; alone he found it frightening, made more so when they would come towards him with scalpels raised. Torture in the name of scientific discovery.

He stays well away from the memory device, but wonders, if used on him, what the others would see.

He wonders what he would of the others.

He brings them drinks while they're discussing it. Tosh looks excited, another piece of tech for her to study and analyze and tear apart; he wonders if that's all she sees when she sees the things that come through the Rift, items to be taken apart and studied. In his nightmares, its Lisa strapped down and taken apart, Tosh making notes at each piece dissembled, deaf to Lisa's cries; in the worse ones, it is him she is dissecting. Owen is bored; anything that has nothing to do with sex or drinking or lewd humor bores him. Even the flash of memory he was struck with, the rape of the girl, has faded by the end of the day, leaving Owen with only an uncomfortable illusion of humanity and compassion. Ianto knows that he may be being unkind with such thoughts, as he has hacked into Jack's personal files on them all, but it is hard to find sympathy for a man who makes it his entertainment to degrade him.

Gwen is easier to read, as she wears her pain bright as the sun, and all are welcome to it. Granted, she had had the most striking of experiences, but it hits him like a slap every time; her thoughts, her emotions, her obsessions are too familiar to him for him to feel comfortable with. It was sentiments like hers that fuelled the desires of Torchwood One, that made Yvonne such a formidable and dangerous woman, and he can see the same qualities in Gwen. He knows that it is only a matter of time before she is the cause of something that even Jack can't clean up after.

The road to hell, indeed.

Jack is harder to read, as his exuberance distracts from his true feelings. He plays at using the machine, at taking a peek into the past or the future, but still tells Ianto to lock it away. There is a shadow in Jack's eyes, a shadow that reminds Ianto too much of the ones that cloud his own, and he cannot help but find himself drifting towards Jack. He was never sure what it was about Jack, what appeal that he held for him. It isn't entirely sexual, as Ianto isn't motivated by desires and lust and tactile responses; at the Tower he was rarely touched, and even then the touches were scientific in nature, and never for pleasure. But it isn't not sexual either, as the longer that Ianto watches Jack, the more that he begins to notice how beautiful the man is, how warm is voice is, how he draws all attention and thought to him; he likens it to a black hole, and gravity is pulling him ever closer to the center. Lisa has Ianto, all of Ianto, but Jack brings forth response entirely foreign. Ianto is disturbed how easily he can see the happy leer fill Jack's face, how vibrant the blue of his eyes are, how gentle his hands feel when he brushes Ianto's own as they reach for a cup. These days he often finds himself thinking of Jack.

There's something very unique about the man.

It disturbs him.

He is still plagued with thoughts of Jack when he heads down to see Lisa after the others and said man have gone, but upon seeing her all other thoughts flee. She's still, too still, and if not for the continuous motion of the respirator, he would think her already gone. For the first time she isn't sweating, she's not shaking, she's not speaking. Her eyes are open but locked on a fixed position. Her face is terribly blank.

On shaking legs he makes his way to her, and his hand trembles violently as he reaches out to touch her face. For a long moment there is no response.

And then she speaks.

"They're there when I sleep Ianto, waiting, like a heartbeat, like a beacon, waiting for me in the dark."

He feels a chill sweep over him.

"Lisa?" he whimpers.

"He wants me to go, Ianto. He doesn't want me to have you."

"Lisa," he gasps and clutches at her hand. Is she hallucinating? Did he over medicate her? She had been in so much pain lately, and seemed to be drifting further and further, that he dared to give her more; he couldn't stand her pain. "Cariad, what's wrong? What are you saying?"

"Drums, Ianto," she says in a voice that has lost everything that has made it human. "There are drums in the dark."

The tears come, falling like they had when he had been torn from his mother's arms, and he presses his face into her side and sobs. What does Gwen know about pain, about sorrow, when Ianto is drowning in this despair? He's clinging to her, frantic, desperate, and he is unwilling to let go; he can't abandon her, she is the one who saved him, who introduced him to the good of this world, who gave him a life here? What life does he have without her?

It's like a prayer that he whispers into her metal skin.

"I won't let go," he says. "I won't let you go."

He presses his face closer and feels the twitch of her face beneath his. He doesn't hear her words.

"He won't share you."

The laptop set in the corner beeps sharply in the room's silence, alerting him of an incoming email.

Dr. Tanizaki is on his way.


	5. Cyberwoman

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Softball Angel**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: Teen but may change later**

**Warnings: Spoilers for Torchwood and Doctor Who; Also minor violence and maybe some sex in later chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who; if I did Ianto, Owen, and Tosh would still be alive.**

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**5. Cyberwoman**

_Ianto barely felt the mouth that covered his own._

_Golden strands wrap themselves around him, pulling him back from the darkness, and he knew that his time as Ianto Jones was ending. He was dying. Water was in his lungs and blood in his throat. One of his hearts had already stopped, and the other slowed, each beat less than the one before and soon it would silence. There was a red glow before him, regeneration beckoning, but he turned away. He blinded himself to it, as he had blinded himself to Lisa's true condition. Let him fall as the Tower had._

_He was no better then Torchwood. _

"Ianto," Jack whispers.

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me, why are you touching me."

Fingers wrap themselves around his arm, bruising, but secure. He is left to his grief, but held and watched, and the scent of the Captain hovers over him. Fingers that had clawed at metal skin clench into pained fists. His hands are bleeding, scars opened, his and Lisa's blood mixing once more, like they had at the Tower. Both times arrogance had been the cause of violence, of death. But unlike before, this time is different.

This time it is his fault.

The team had shot her, shot his Lisa (only it wasn't, yet it was, and oh god she had done it for him, worn a new face like some twisted regeneration) and he was dying without her. He was like a marionette with its strings cut; he had had nothing before Lisa, and now that she was gone, he was nothing. The numbness was soul deep and he no longer felt the cold from the Rift pool that had soaked his clothes, he no longer could smell the rancid combination of pizza sauce and blood, and he no longer cared what the others would do. What Jack would do?

There was nothing more that they could do to him anyway.

He feels a tug, the hands on him leading him away, and he knows that this is the last he'll see of Lisa. If Jack were smart, Ianto would never even know where her body was placed.

Torchwood keeps their own.

"Come on." Gwen's voice, soft and shocked and too human at his elbow, a hand on is back, and he shakes. He hasn't been touched so much for years, and never so gently, and he doesn't deserve it, not now, not when it is too late, and he feels all the wrong things.

"Stop, why are you, stop it, stop touching me."

Jack hasn't let go. Jack didn't let go. There is a truth in Jack's grip that he can't escape, a truth in Jack's touch that he can't hide from.

And in Jack's kiss were all the answers that he had feared.

_There is a strange taste in his mouth; it burns and tingles and pulses like a star against his tongue, and pulls him back into himself, moving through him like the Rift. It whispers promises in his mind, and shows him paths and events and futures and pasts, and the whole of creation. It shows him and Lisa as they were, innocence in his eyes as he marvels at the zoo and aquarium and his first taste of coffee and the rare time they went camping and he told her the names of all the stars that hadn't even been born yet, and he slept to reminiscences of his mother's voice doing the same._

_Lisa was his home in a world that wasn't. _

_The pressure of the heat, of the light, continues but shows him and Lisa as they are and of what could have happened. It shows him multiple things, dark things, and all of them true: Lisa as she converts him, but fails, and it is he and not Tanizaki that is severed and in pieces, and the horror of the team as they find him, as they fail to stop Lisa. He sees Jack caught, dying again and again, surrounded by the corpses of his team, Ianto the first to fall, always the first. He sees Jack finding him after Lisa has put her brain inside his body and the agony on Jack's face as he is faced with this new creature in familiar. He sees himself snapping, killing the others, and then turning the gun on himself after he shoots Lisa in the delivery girl's body. He sees the rise of the new cyber army. It doesn't show him any other possibilities._

_It doesn't show Jack shooting him._

_It never shows him that._

_And as much as he wishes it was any other way, the light cannot lie, cannot influence, as it just is; it merely exists. And it was he, and no one else, that started this. He made the choice to do this, to try, but Lisa could never be saved._

_He wakes to find Jack's lips over his own and his twin hearts beating out a proud rhythm in his chest. Then Lisa screams and instinct moves him, save her, protect her, despite the futility._

_It never occurs to him that Jack could have possibly felt the double-beat against his own single one._

Jack is staring at him but he doesn't care. The two of them are sitting in Ianto's living room, Ianto on the couch and Jack leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, and Jack is staring but Ianto doesn't care.

"Where is your furniture?" Jack asks.

Ianto blinks at the room, as if just becoming aware of his surroundings.

"I have a bed, a table, and a couch. I didn't know I needed more."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "This is a helluva place to be stuck for four weeks. At this point it more resembles a cell than anything else." He pauses. "Unless this is some strange modern deco thing, then, it looks really good."

Ianto shrugs. "It's what I'm used to."

"The deco or the cell?"

"Why don't you tell me, _Sir_? What day do you want me back?"

"What makes you think I want you back? We can't exactly trust you, can we? I could just retcon you and make you someone else's mistake."

Ianto turns to look at him.

"You wouldn't."

Jack smirks. "That's awfully sure. What makes you think I won't?"

"You're Torchwood."

"Come again?"

Ianto turns away, his words barely audible.

"I am a servant of Torchwood."

There is silence and the sounds of the street filter inward as if through a glass wall. A glass bowel, Ianto thinks and smiles without humor.

Jack begins to talk again. "Funny thing Ianto, after this I decided to have another look at your records, see if you could be hiding any other little dirty secrets, and do you know what I found in your files? Nothing. They seemed to be rather like this apartment; minimalist, bare, vacant."

"I'm a teaboy," he says.

Jack continues on. "But on your girlfriend, there was quite a lot. Lisa Hallett, a brilliant mathematician and heavily involved in specialized research. And there the file ends, and as for the research? Need to know only, except I can't access it. Only the Director of Torchwood One can." Jack clicks his tongue against his teeth, the noise abominably loud in the bare apartment. "Now why would such a clever and brilliant young woman spend her time with a _teaboy?"_

There's nothing he can say, nothing that won't give everything away to this man that had dared to order him to execute his love, and all Ianto is able to do is shrink in on himself at Jack's insinuations.

"You accused me of not paying attention, Ianto. I am now."

And Jack leaves, knowing not to push, knowing when best to leave the wounded animal to lick its wounds.

Ianto watches him go and counts time.

Despite what Ianto had felt in that timeless moment between life and death, when Jack had pressed _him_ into Ianto and Ianto had seen and known all things; despite the acceptance deep down that Jack had been right and Lisa couldn't have been saved, and despite the certainty that Jack is actually a good man, Ianto is silent.

Jack doesn't deserve his secrets.


	6. Small Worlds

**6. Small Worlds**

Ianto once said that he would watch Jack suffer and die.

At the time he meant it.

_A man and a woman are dancing in a garden, their laughter high and clear, and the joyful quality makes him laugh along with them. The man twirls her then dips low, and nuzzles his nose against hers in a fond manner, and he realizes that the two are not just lovers but also dear friends. The man's love is huge, it seems to encompass all things, and it is bright and golden and even though he is not the recipient he basks in its regard. From his position in the doorway he can't make out the man's face, but the woman's is clear; she is beautiful, not conventionally really, but in her shines forth an exuberance that is rare and innocent and so vibrant. He knows that this is a woman who loves wholly and forever, that this is a woman who still views the world with childlike wonder. Before him the man pulls her back up and rests her against him, and they rock to an unheard song. He moves forward, wishing to hear the song, driven by waiting to take some piece of this for him, to experience what is before him. The man raises his head and he stumbles back, as Jack's eyes meet his own. _

He seemed to step into Jack's dreams regularly these days.

Ianto assumed that it was due to his race's natural telepathic abilities, for when he slept he often saw other people's thoughts. The unconscious mind is basically defenseless in sleep, and while he was able to mostly block the constant hum of emotion during the day, at night he was as weakened as the people's minds he visited. It was how he knew the codes to break into the Tower's mainframe and change his file. It was how he knew that Lisa wasn't like the others, and had no intention to hurt him.

It is also the reason that he forgave Jack.

The first time he truly lost control of it he had fallen at his desk, head resting on crossed arms, exhausted after his first week back. It had been a given that he would return to Torchwood, he had nowhere else to go ( retcon wouldn't work on him) and Jack seemed more inclined to watch him then kill him. At first he believed that it was because the Captain was waiting for the next monster to jump out of Ianto's closet (keep waiting Harkness) but then Ianto changed his mind; Jack's gaze wasn't suspicious, just constant, and watchful. It made him feel considered, rather then studied.

It unnerved him.

It was as he slept then that he dreamed, though looking back, it was more premonition than anything. He saw men in uniform, laughing in a boxcar, excited and relaxed; he heard a voice he recognized and jack came into view, and then darkness fell, thick with the scent of roses and he choked on them. Massive shapes flew behind his closed eyes, jackal faces and long tree-like fingers that reached, and a horrible mockery of children's laughter chased him into wakefulness. He bolted upright, and had sworn that he could still smell the petals. He had straightened himself out and continued on is duties, knowing that he would sleep no more that night. It only occurred to him later, when jack had come up from his hole, that he had been a part of the other man's dream.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you."

Jack's hand on his shoulder had only confirmed it, as everything in Ianto's body sung at his touch, racing at the slight connection that remained. He told himself that he only imagined it when Jack had flinched as he slammed his mental walls up once more.

The second time, this time, Ianto was unable to lie to himself.

_Her hair is loose and hangs in curls, and Jack presses his face to them, and speaks words of worship._

The faeries were gone, jasmine was gone, and people were dead including a woman that Gwen said that Jack knew. Estelle. Ianto's mask was set in stone but he knew that she was the girl in the garden, the one that Jack loved. The others had stormed home, burning with indignant and righteous anger, and Ianto was struck by their ignorance and hypocrisy; as much as he hated to justify Jack, there was nothing else the man could have done, and really, what would the others have done in his place? He remained silent however, keeping the thoughts to himself as the others moved past and out the cog door, and he watched Jack seclude himself in his office.

The others only saw the small, while Ianto was cursed with seeing everything.

He may (at one time) have hated the man, but Ianto was growing tired of suffering; he was tired of pain and of cages and everything. He wanted to take pleasure in the obvious anguish of the man, but, his own words haunted him; it was obvious the man had loved just as deeply as Ianto had, and though it hurt him to think, more wisely as well. At least Jack had known when it was time to say goodbye. He gripped the package under his arm and made his way to Jack's office. Jack's voice called through the door.

"Is there going to be a lynching, Ianto?"

"No sir, the mob has retreated for the night."

He entered to Jack's dry chuckle, the man in question sitting stiffly in his chair, but weighed down by the pain in his eyes. Ianto shuffled nervously and placed the package on the desk. Jack rand his hands over it and picked it up, shaking it slightly.

"What's this? I hope it's not a bomb; you do know that you'd be the one clearing up the mess."

Ianto cleared his throat. "Sir, if you pardon, I took the liberty of arranging some matters for you."

"Such as?"

He let out a breath. "The funeral arrangements sir."

Jack was silent, the room humming with an odd tension, and Ianto clasped his hands tightly.

"You didn't have to do that." Jack said, voice hushed.

Ianto had no reply.

Jack tipped the package. "What's in the box?"

"Some items of her I thought I knew, that you wouldn't want shut away." He let out a sigh. "It's only right that you should have them."

Jack ran a hand over the letters and photos that had spilled out, and a finger tip ran reverently over the girl's face. His eyes lost their focus and Ianto stepped back as they filled with tears; he trembled as Jack started to shake, he shouldn't be seeing this, it was wrong to see the other man this way. He made his way to the door.

"What happened to the cat?"

Ianto turned. "I took him. It didn't seem right to leave something that she clearly loved behind. "

"No," Jack whispered, "it's not right. Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

"Sir." Ianto nodded and left the office, releasing his breath in a sigh, and he made his way down the steps.

Jack's soft voice followed him out.

"You're something special, aren't you Ianto?"

Ianto paused but didn't turn back.

"No more then you sir."

He leaves Jack to privacy and his memories.

_He sees a man and woman in a garden; he sits and watches as she dances barefoot in the rain, her face raised to catch the drops on her face. He makes himself comfy by a lilac bush and breathes the fragrance in; if his is still to be a voyeur, he might as well be a comfy one. A hand is placed on his shoulder, gently, and he turns behind to see Jack, an older and worn looking Jack, but one that still watches the scene with all the love that exists in the younger one's eyes. The other man settles next to him and the two wait for the rain to stop, sheltered together, and as true sleep comes Ianto feels a hand take his own. _

Ianto once told Jack that he would watch him suffer and die.

At the time he meant it.

He doesn't anymore


	7. Countrycide

**7. Countrycide**

Ianto always knew that humans were capable of terrible things.

His experiences with Torchwood One had drilled in the fact that not all humans were humane.

But this was beyond horrifying, even with all the things that he had experienced with Torchwood; at least aliens had either a chemical or biological or in-bred condition to be carnivorous, even though Ianto could only remember less than five species out of billions that would cannibalize their own.

What that said about the human race Ianto didn't even want to venture a guess at.

He was leaning (more like listing) against the side of an ambulance and the flashing lights were giving him a headache. To be honest with himself, he's been off since they'd found the village; later, after finding the bodies (meat) he guessed that it was the residue from all the horror, and pain, and terror that the victims had felt at their fate. At this moment, when he felt like his eyeballs were about to pop out of his head, he thought that being telepathic was a real bitch.

He watches Owen try to place Gwen in the SUV, mindful of her wound, and sees how his hands fuss over her; he must be very out of it, to imagine the ebb and flow of their emotions as they rebound off each other, only to keep entangling. He remembers how the other man had hovered as she was checked out by the arriving medics, how Owen had made sure that they all were checked out; Ianto had slid away, tossing a "I've already been looked over" at the doctor before settling himself in his current position. Usually he's better than this, hiding what he is, and by now has the control to completely mask his twin hearts and strange respiratory system with little difficulty; it's a testament to how shaken he is that, if Owen were to touch him, he'd have no difficulty finding the rapid double-pulse.

He's surprised that Tosh or Gwen hadn't heard it earlier, as well. He remembers how excited the villagers were about Tosh's ethnic heritage and their comment about Chinese food. He wonders if he would have tasted different from human meat; he wonders if he would have regenerated when they slit his throat, or if he would have just died when they cut off his head. He's glad that Tosh had escaped, if only for a little bit. Her mind had been brilliant and quick and had put his own to shame; he was proud of her.

He sees Tosh, brave little Tosh, checking the back, making sure that all of the equipment is still there and in once piece. While others look for human connection she looks for the electronic one, the one that she knows won't hurt her; Ianto can't blame her for that. Somewhere over to his right he can hear Jack, barking orders.

He supposes that that is his comfort.

Ianto has no comfort.

"Ianto Jones?"

There is a man beside him, no one he knows, and dressed in a nice but functional suit. The man doesn't quite fit in, he appears too fixed, too immaculate, and his eyes don't burn with the same horror that the other emergency worker's carry. The man is looking him over with a gaze that feels more intense then a medic's. Jack hasn't noticed, has in fact taken Gwen to talk to demand answers out of the husband, and he can see Owen hovering at the door. He squints, as the pain in his head plus the light makes his sight blurry, but he thinks that he sees the men loading the prisoners into the police van; somehow he is sure that these men aren't police.

Ianto squints at the man. His voice is familiar. "Yes?"

"Hell of a thing, this is." May I take your statement?"

The man places a hand on Ianto's arm.

Something is of about this, very off; this man cannot be either PC or detective and really, Ianto shouldn't be speaking without talking to Jack first. And yet he can't stop and tells the man everything, for the first initial speculations (edited a bit at least; he may be out of it but not that much) to the disastrous discovery of the village and its contents. He feels the fear start to rise and one word from the man drives it back, the weight of his injuries press down on him and the man rubs a hand over him skin and the pain subsides, until he is floating numbly of waves of endorphins by the end of his story, feeling safe under the man's regard, his pulse now a steady _thrum-thrum_ in his chest. His gaze shifts over to the building where Jack and Gwen have just exited, the villager being dragged out once they're gone, and he cannot help but flinch.

"Is that the one who beat you?" The man whisper in his ear and Ianto is so far gone that the dangerous tone doesn't register. Ianto nods and the man's hand tightens on his arm slightly, and again Ianto misses the look on the other man's face. One of the PC's doesn't, however, and steers the villager away and into another car. Gwen storms away and after a moment of watching her, Jack turns and starts in his direction.

The man steps away, although his hand lingers, and Ianto finds himself blinking, as if just coming awake.

"Thank you for your time. Don't worry; these _people_ will get exactly what they deserve." The man's voice is sharp like blades, and there is a glee there that makes Ianto meet those eyes that burn so cold. He feels clouded, like he's missing something important.

"Ah, here comes your _Captain_. Take care, Ianto Jones."

"Y, yes sir."

Jack is waylaid by Tosh, and the man uses that moment to press close once more, leaning his forehead against Ianto's.

"It's alright. Let time fade it away."

And then he is gone.

Ianto's left heart skips a beat.

Jack appears at his shoulder.

"Hey, you alright?"

He nods because he can't speak; it's all too much, too soon after this, to be pushed into fond memories of his past. His father had said that to him whenever he had got adventurous and hurt himself, or had a nightmare. _Let time fade it away._ Jack takes his arm (almost the exact same spot) and pulls him to the SUV where the others are waiting; Ianto falls into the scent of the other man and the warmth of him chases away the cold that had settled in Ianto since this whole thing began.

"Let's get out of here." Jack says, climbing into the front, and Ianto settles himself next to Tosh in the back, and the two of them rest their hands against the other. As the vehicle pulls out Ianto takes one last look at the village, at the emergency vehicles, at the countryside; he finally feels his hearts settle as the leave the area behind. It is only later that he will find it strange at how quickly help had come.

But then his father always promised that he would come for him.

Ianto closes his eyes and begins to shake.


	8. Greeks Bearing Small Gifts

**8. Greeks Bearing Gifts**

Ianto stared into the bathroom mirror, lost in the churning blue of his own eyes, the steady ticking of his watch the only noise in the flat.

He had left the Hub and gone home, because he needed to think. It had been a bad fucking week-- Owen and Gwen's transparent and juvenile affair, the Minister's sudden and heavy interest in Torchwood's operations, Tosh's—

He needed to get away from everyone, from Torchwood, from Jack.

_A stomach full of rats._

He knew that Time Lords and humans were very similar, in very different ways. They looked the same, could act the same, and despite evolutionary and intellectually being light years apart, they had many of the same drives.

He never knew that he could hate someone so much as he did Mary.

She had used and attacked Tosh.

She had attacked Tosh.

Tosh.

He slammed his hand into the mirror, glass breaking and falling to the ground, fragments stuck in his skin, flecks of blood marring the pristine walls. His lips curled, his eyes burned, and he felt a scream rise in his throat. It was the rebound effect, the mental and emotional backlash from Tosh's anguish and betrayal, Jack's anger and fierce protective fear, and Gwen and Owens's sharp and bitter condescending adrenaline; under the sharp onslaught his own mental shields had wavered, and the reside had begun to leak through, until all the pent up feelings of the others had driven him out of his skull. Pushing his way out of the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, he stormed to the kitchen and thrust his hand under the faucet, absentmindedly plucking the tiny shards out and watching the skin seal. Why Tosh? She was unique and clever and innocent in a way that was appealing, and even if her questioning nature did frighten him a bit at times, it was also what drew him to her. He liked Tosh, and by all that was Holy, if Jack hadn't of sent the bitch to the sun—

He fell with a gasp, with a broken sob.

Stop.

He sounded like his father.

He was thinking about his father a lot lately.

_He loved his father and, despite the absences, he knew that his father loved him. But he knew his father was not a good man._

_He had witnessed evidence of this only once._

_His mother had taken him to some sort on intergalactic bizarre to pick up some parts for one of her inventions when he had become separated from her; a rough hand had grabbed him and pulled him away, and into one of the many buildings. He remembers seeing other children from different races, sacred and crying and huddling together, and hearing his kidnappers talking about "transmit" and "profit" and "brothel." He had bravely, though his mother called him foolish, defended the others and had been hit a few times for it; he clearly remembers feeling one of his ribs go. The rest isn't so clear but he remembers hearing a haughty and darkly humorous voice-father's-and then red; as an adult he knew that the attack must have been swift, for there to have been no screams. At the time, in pain and shaking, he had felt hands lift him and, upon feeling his father's touch brush across his mind, he had curled himself into the dark clothing and had clung... His father pressed a kiss to his forehead, moustache tickling his skin. _

"_At the time I thought he would be best kept safe with you, my dear. In the future be more careful," his father had said to his mother when they had been reunited. "Or I will take him."_

_Strawberry-blonde hair blinded him as he was passed to her shaking arms, mother who feared nothing feared father, and the last he felt before they left was the gentle hand on his back, soothing, and caught the scent of iron on his skin. _

_His father loved him and god helps anyone who hurt one that he loved._

Ianto wraps him arms around his knees and pulls them close, head resting on them. He was more like his father then he wanted to be, but was that up to genetics (oh he hoped not) or more to what Torchwood had ingrained in him; all he knew was that once he found out what Mary had done, he would have gleefully killed the thing, maybe burned her mind away like she tried to do to Tosh.

You don't hurt the ones Ianto loves.

Which was a frightening revelation unto itself, for whenever did he consign himself to feel anything for these people?

He sighed and stood, pushing his pants off and heading to the living room, when there was a knock at his door. No one, since Jack that one time, had ever come round his flat; even after the Beacons, under orders he had stayed at the Hub, with Jack's watchful eye on him, and had only recently been able to make it back before this mess had started up. It's a good thing Moses was being cared for by a neighbor of the thing would surely have starved.

He opened the door and found Tosh on the other side, a small and breaking Tosh, and Ianto had had just about enough this day, so he pulled her in and down on the couch with him. She burst into tears and he held her.

"I came to you, because you know, you understand," she warbled into his shoulder. And yes, he supposed he did understand.

"Shh, Cariad, it's not alright now, but it will be" he said, trying to sooth the psychic abrasions that using the pendant had left on Tosh's mind. She blinked up at him, and he wiped her tears away.

"But I heard you; you're still suffering, still in so much pain."

He sighed and pressed her closer.

"Things have been...a little raw lately. Impossibles and what-ifs and everything."

"You said that Torchwood was all you had." Her hand started to pull at his shirt and he couldn't lie to her, not now.

"It is. For the longest time it is all I've had, all I've known; I guess it's comfy somehow, strangely safe, in a world where nothing else is. Where nothing else can be trusted." Including girlfriends, lovers, bosses, friends, the past and the future.

"Yeah," Tosh managed. He gave her a tissue and she pulled back to blow her nose. She looked around. "You have no furniture."

"Why does everyone insist on me having furniture? Do I honestly need a dinette set with matching chairs? Will my life not be complete without an adjustable reclining chair?"

There was a laugh from the doorway.

"As long as you have a bed, I don't care." Jack said as he entered, shutting the door that Ianto had left open behind him.

"I didn't think a bed was necessary for you," Ianto said as he shifted Tosh over so Jack could sit beside him. Jack winked at him as he handed both Tosh and Ianto a bag of food.

"It isn't."

The three of them sat on Ianto's couch and ate. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't uncomfortable, and it just was.

Jack swallowed his mouthful.

"You really need a television."

Her laughter filled up all the dark places, bright once more, and he couldn't stop his own slight chuckle; Jack's outshone them all.

The next day Tosh helped him pick out a television.

Some allowances just had to be made.


	9. Tosh Knows

**A/N: Many have asked if I would change some of this story from it's original. Well, ask and you shall receive. You see I decided that after the Mary incident, with the mind-reading pendant, that Tosh is smart enough to figure out Ianto's secret and confront him. I hope you guys are okay with this and that this chapter lives up to expectations. **

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**9. Tosh Knows**

Ianto and Tosh had just arrived at his flat after buying Ianto a television. The topic of a television came up last night when Jack had said Ianto needed one. So Tosh was all but too happy to comply with buying Ianto one, on Torchwood expenses. Now Tosh watched as Ianto went into the kitchen to make coffee and contemplated with herself.

See, when Tosh was wearing the mind-reading pendant that Mary had given her, Tosh read more than just the fact Ianto was grieving over Lisa. Tosh knew what Ianto was. Knew his memories, his pain, and what he had suffered at the hands of Torchwood One and more importantly Yvonne Hartman. When Tosh discovered this, she knew the reasons behind the things Ianto does, and knew he was capable of more than people believed.

Now, as Ianto came back with two cups of coffee, Tosh knew this was her chance to get some answers and let Ianto know that he could talk to anytime he wanted. Taking the cup from him, Tosh waited until Ianto sat down before speaking.

"I know," Tosh said cryptically hoping that Ianto would catch on.

Ianto paused slightly, fearing that Tosh knew what he was, but shook it off as him being paranoid.

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Ianto answered taking a sip of his coffee.

Tosh hearing this, slammed her cup down on the table and stood up in front of Ianto with her hands on her hips.

"Now you listen and you listen good Ianto Jones!" Tosh yelled. "I know that you're a Time Lord, that you're mother and father were Time Lords. I know that you're mother was killed and that you're father is a bad man. I know that when you came through the rift Torchwood One took care of your health and then tortured and tested you for their own outcome. I know that they would cut you open and take parts of you to test, to see how fast it would regenerate. So don't sit there and lie to me mister, because it is not going to work."

Ianto eyes widen and he looks up at Tosh wondering how in the hell she was able to get all of that from the pendant. As if knowing what he was about to ask, Tosh spoke up again, only this time more softly.

"I tried not to see it but the pendant had more control than I thought," she stated.

"Well, aren't you going to call Jack?" Ianto asked bitterly.

"Why the hell would I do that?" she asked clueless.

"So that he can come and lock me up!" Ianto yelled standing.

Tosh watched as her friend paced back and forth. She walked up to him and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his pacing. His face avoided hers, so Tosh put her other hand to his face, making him look at her.

"I confronted not because I want to turn you in," she admitted, "but because I am your friend and I don't want you to have to carry this around by yourself."

"What did I do to deserve a friend like you?" Ianto whispered so softly that Tosh almost missed it.

"Don't you ever think that you don't deserve to have friends and family," she stated firmly but softly, "and remember you are never alone."

Tosh pulled Ianto into a hug and smiled when he hugged her back. Ianto relaxed against Tosh and let tears fall from his eyes. If he had to be honest with himself, Ianto did feel better knowing that he could go to someone who knew what he had went through.


	10. They Keep Killing Suzie

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Softball Angel**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Spoilers for Torchwood and Doctor Who; Also some violence and graphic sex scenes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who. If I did Ianto, Owen, and Tosh would still be alive. Plus I would be able to have Ianto and Jack all to myself.**

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**Chapter 10. They Keep Killing Suzie**

Ianto was a virgin in all things before he met Jack. His life before the fall of the Tower had been closed, secretive; with only Lisa and the moments they could steal to give him any sense of what the world was truly like; after, when he came to Cardiff, he had been so focused on helping her that he had blocked out everything else, save her needs and survival. Even his life before earth had been secluded and isolated, with only his mother and occasionally his father for constant companionship. He knew that this was the reason that Jack frightened him so much.

Jack made him want to look, and made him live.

Ianto wasn't sure he was ready.

He was trembling as he entered the office, beloved watch clutched tightly in his hand, the steady ticking giving him the courage to cross the threshold and go to the Captain. Jack, who was leaning against the front of his desk, was watching with a soft smile on his face. When the two were face-to-face, so close they could taste each other's breath, Jack reached down and pulled up his hand and took the watch from him; Ianto had gripped it hard enough to leave welts and Jack traced each one with his tongue. Ianto shuddered and felt his body fold into Jack's, drawn by the heat that was constant with Jack. He breathed deeply and his senses were flooded with pheromones.

"_God," he gasped and struggled to keep tight hold on his self-control, struggled to keep the pounding of his hearts hidden._

"_Is it alright?" Jack whispered, nuzzling Ianto's neck and pressing kisses to the exposed skin._

"_Y, yeah," Ianto breathed. "It's just, I haven't been touched in. a while."_

"_Well," And Ianto could feel Jack's smile against his skin. "That's about to change."_

He stood on the Plass and watched the people pass by, invisible to them as they moved through their lives, just a distant shadow flitting through their perception. They were happy, they were sad, they were angry, unsatisfied; they were. And it scared him that he wanted to be too. He thought of Gwen, of all her emotion and beliefs and flaws, and knew that this, before him, was her world. That this is what she, and Jack, tried to protect. Even Jack, contained, exuberant Jack, blended into the world better then he did. What is it they see, he wondered, that made them strive so hard to protect this place?

"I want to see it too," he whispered.

Each piece of clothing had been slowly removed, and even though he longed to hide and keep hidden, he couldn't move away from Jack, from the warmth of the other man's hands, and how when the panic of discovery started to rise, Jack would sooth him with a kiss or a word. He had moaned as he was bared to the man and had felt the lust hit him like a physical force, Jack holding nothing back as he shed his clothes more quickly then he had Ianto's, and pulled Ianto up into a messy and passion filled kiss. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced and after the first swipe of Jack's tongue, he had given up trying to reciprocate and had simply been swept away.

_He had begun to shake; it was too soon, too much, but instead of pulling away he had pressed closer to Jack, willing him to make it all better. Jack was like a fixed point in a constantly spinning world and Ianto needed his stability._

_Jack rolled Ianto down and underneath him, moving his head away and down Ianto's chest. _

_And then lower._

"_So beautiful," he said. "My beautiful Ianto."_

_Ianto couldn't stop it, and his chest rose and fell in frantic movements, his hands pulling at the camp bed's rough sheets._

"_S, sir!"_

_Jack moved back up his body and met Ianto's eyes with his own. He settled his weight between Ianto's thighs and raised his hands to Ianto's, entwining their fingers together._

"_Jack," he said, and his eyes twinkled like the skies that Ianto remembered from his childhood. Tentatively Ianto raised his face, his body, his all to meet his Captain._

"_Jack." _

_Jack's smile was blinding._

"Now that's a serious face," a rough male voice whispered in his ear, a tongue quickly following the words, and Ianto turned to meet Jack's mouth with his own. The other man settled himself besides Ianto, body half covering the younger man's, and he turned to watch what had so captivated his, what, lover? Ianto wasn't sure what he was to Jack.

"What's wrong?"

"They're all so vulnerable," Ianto said.

Jack watched a group of couples pass by. "But that's why we're here; to protect them. The twenty-first century is where it all changes and—"

"We have to be ready," Ianto finished with a sly smile.

Jack huffed in his ear.

Ianto kept his eyes fixed on the horizon and frowned. "But will we be ready, do you think? Or is it all for naught, and we'll fall under the darkness first."

Jack pulled back and turned Ianto towards him. "Okay, now that's a little morbid. And depressing. And not at all sexy."

"Sorry," Ianto said, "it's been a morbid kind of day."

"Forgiven," Jack said as he pulled Ianto to his feet and led him towards the city center. "But only if you join me in an incredibly fattening meal that we will then have to work off, together." He waggled his eyebrows and Ianto laughed, letting the other man pull him close and kiss him.

"I think that will be acceptable."

"Mmm," Jack purred. "I can't wait."

His hands clutched at Jack's back, leaving clawed trails that his then soothed with the pads of his fingers. His head tossed and turned and his couldn't decide whether to close his eyes or keep them open; he couldn't bear to look at Jack, jack whose eyes didn't stray, whose eyes seemed to see right into him. Finally Ianto had had enough and reached his head up to bite at Jack's mouth, wildly, untamed, and Jack moaned his appreciation into Ianto's neck.

"What are you doing," Ianto gasped, "What are you doing to me?"

One sharp movement had him tossing his head back, exposing his throat, and Jack followed the long line of it down with his mouth. He was so out of it that he didn't notice when Jack dipped his head down to kiss at his chest.

"_Oh Ianto," Jack groaned into his skin and pushed them together harder. "You, you are a precious thing."_

_With a vicious movement that took Jack by surprise Ianto rolled them until Jack was beneath him, and grinding himself down on the other man, drove them both to completion. Jack held him close, not letting him move away, and pulled the wrinkled sheet over their bodies. Harsh panting filled the air, and unheard beneath it, was Ianto's soft words._

"_What have you made me?"_

This was complicated. This was wrong.

This was happiness.

With Jack's hand in his own, the other man's warmth at his side, and his Captain's laughter filling his heart, Ianto found that the thought of losing this was beyond bearable.

At that moment he found that he understood Suzie far better then he would have liked. What would he do, to keep this feeling, to keep this moment?

Anything, to keep it as his.

Yes, he thought, I understand you Suzie. Everyone wants to live, and keep on living; everyone wants something that will last forever.

And after all, what else is regeneration, but an attempt to live forever?


	11. Surveillance Bugs

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Softball Angel**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Spoilers for Torchwood and Doctor Who; Also some violence and graphic sex scenes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who. If I did Ianto, Owen, and Tosh would still be alive. Plus I would be able to have Ianto and Jack all to myself.**

* * *

**11. The Surveillance Bugs**

Ianto doesn't when he discovers them, he just does. He had just gotten home and was angry at Gwen for throwing Lisa at him and at Owen for calling him "Tea-boy", that he threw his cell phone. After Ianto calmed down he noticed the bug. He was angry but he didn't blame Jack for doing it. After all, Ianto did sneak Lisa into the Hub without anyone noticing. Ianto looked around some more and found bugs in his house phone, lamps, his bedroom, the living room, and kitchen. Ianto immediately thought back to the night where Tosh told him that she knew his secret and cursed. He took calming breaths and came up with a plan to get Tosh to help him in the archives so that he could ask her to erase their conversation. Ianto couldn't have Jack or anyone else finding out. He would not become a lab rat or a prisoner again.

~***~

The next day Ianto waited until after lunch, to get Tosh alone. He saw Jack go back up to his office, Owen to the medical bay to autopsy the Weevil, and Gwen to her desk. Taking a deep breath Ianto approached Tosh as she was making her way to her desk.

"Tosh, could you help with something in the archives?" Ianto asked with a smile.

"Sure," she answered back.

Ianto led her far enough in so that nobody would hear their conversation. Stopping he turned around to Tosh, who had a confused look on her face.

"Yan?" she questioned.

"I need a favor," he said, trying to keep his panic down but he failed because Tosh noticed.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Jack put surveillance bugs in my house, probably after Lisa. Of course, I don't blame him for that. I did bring in a Cyberwoman. My point is that our conversation is on there and Jack can't find out. I won't become some lab rat. So will you please erase our conversation from the feed?" Ianto finished taking a deep breath.

"I already did Ianto," she smiled. When she saw Ianto's confused face, she started to explain. "I knew Jack was putting surveillance bugs in your house. So when I decided to confront you, I turned the sound off. All Jack saw were you pacing for no reason and me calming you down. He doesn't know what was said."

Ianto looked at her for a minute, not believing she would actually do that. Tosh was starting to think Ianto was upset until he pulled her into a tight hug.

"You are a godsend," he repeated over and over again, spinning her around.

"Ianto put me down," Tosh commanded with a laugh.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly putting Tosh down.

"That's okay," she said straightening her clothes, "and Ianto?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"You're welcome," she said leaving.

As Ianto looked at Tosh's retreating form, he knew that he had found a true friend.

~***~

Somewhere in England Harold Saxton thought of his plan. He would not allow his son to be treated like an ape when he was far more intelligent. He had searched so long for his son and had finally found him. Harold Saxton found his son working for Torchwood Cardiff and when he found out that the leader was one Captain Jack Harkness, he could not allow his son's mind to be filled with lies. Harold Saxton would get revenge against mankind for not only himself but his beloved son too.


	12. Random Shoes

**Title: Manifest Destiny**

**Author: Softball Angel**

**Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who**

**Pairing: Ianto/Lisa (past), Ianto/Jack**

**Rating: M**

**Warnings: Spoilers for Torchwood and Doctor Who; Also some violence and graphic sex scenes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who. If I did Ianto, Owen, and Tosh would still be alive. Plus I would be able to have Ianto and Jack all to myself.**

* * *

**12. Random Shoes**

Ianto has a box of treasures that he keeps in his closet. He knows that this is cliché, but as it is the obvious place, it is also the best place.

No one would expect a person to hide anything important in a closet.

It is a box that only he can open, as it is genetically locked, and he does so now while he sure not to be interrupted. Despite Jack's insistences that she go home, Ianto knows that Gwen's dragged their leader off somewhere to talk about humanity, life, and death; he wonders if he should feel jealous, as he and Jack are _together_, but at this point he is merely content that he has the time to do this.

He pulls out the box and sits, cross-legged like a child, on his bed. He opens it and pulls out the only two possessions that he has left of his previous life.

Two items: one a gift from his mother, the other from his father.

He holds his mother's gift first, and the slender cylinder hums as he flicks it on, remembering of how exasperated his mother had gotten when he had used it in his curiosity to unlock mysteries, and never putting them back together when he was done.

It had been his birthday and she had taken him on a special trip to the planet Barcelona. There had been fireworks and music and then, while they had lain side by side and watched the stars dance above, she had risen and pulled a package from her coat. She kneeled before him, and placed it in his hand, and his eyes lit up in wonder, and he tore open the gift and pulled out what was inside. He clutched it to his chest and let out a happy squeal, his small fingers already learning every nuance and component of the gift.

"What is it?" He asked, finding the on button and causing it to emit a loud hum and flash blue, the tell-tale sign that whatever it was, it was sonic.

"It's something I made a long time ago, and has always been reliable," she said. "It's a sonic screwdriver."

He looked up and at her, eyes wide in confusion. "A screwdriver? Why would a screwdriver need to be sonic?"

He didn't understand her reaction, but was still pleased when his usually sedate mother burst into laughter.

"Why indeed," she said.

He smiles now, thinking of that moment, and how later the little gift proved just how useful a sonic screwdriver could be.

He remembers how his father had hidden how displeased he was with the sight of his son with the little screwdriver.

He puts it aside with a sigh, longing to carry it once more, but unwilling to bring attention to the item, and knowing that Jack would defiantly take an interest, which is the one thing that Ianto wanted to avoid at all cost. He knows that his lover would ask, would press, and would demand answers that Ianto will not give him; heaven knows that if the situation were reversed (has been reversed) that Jack wouldn't tell him anything. He likes his Captain, could possibly feel more for the man, but that doesn't mean that he would trust him with anything other then his life.

He wonders what it says about him, that he values his secrets more than his life.

He slips the other item into his palm and rubs his fingers over the etched constellations on the surface of the watch, and recalls the tales his father used to speak of as they walked under the skies of his home, and how one day his father would give them all to him.

"The most important thing to remember about time," his father had said. "Is that it is fickle."

The two were standing under the great blackness of the night sky and he had turned his attention away from counting all the worlds that he knew, to his father.

"Fickle?" he asked.

His father nodded, and stroked his dark mustache. "Yes. While it may be a constant to us, it can be changed and manipulated. Anyone, anything, can change an event or the course of a life. Time is very unreliable. That is why it must be controlled; that is why it must be mastered." He placed a hand on his son's head. "I never allow myself to be a slave to it, and when you are ready, I'll show you how to master it as well."

His father had taken him back to the house, and has placed the watch in his hands, cupping them around it and it seemed to him that each movement of the hands was like a heart or drum beat.

"This is my gift to you."

It was the last time he had seen his father before he was taken, before the war, and before he used both gifts to tear open time and space to flee from the devastation that would come. A little tinkering and he had managed to harness enough vortex energy to ride the Rift to safety, and to Cardiff. Doing so had broken both tools, and although he had managed to fix the screwdriver, the watch had never run since.

Until now, it beat out a rhythm in his palm and drove his hearts into the same pattern, thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum, and he tapped it out against the lid. It shouldn't have been possible after all this time, but he worked for Torchwood, and Ianto was begging to believe in the impossible; even if it could be the most impossible thing. Lately it had felt as if his father is still alive, and even though he should be ecstatic at the thought, all he was filled with was uncertainty.

The beat that had once been comforting now made his hearts catch in fear.

He jumped as his phone rang.

"Yes?" He asked voice hesitant.

"Ianto? Are you alright?"

He let out the breath he had been holding in a silent sigh. "Jack. Where are you?"

"Just nearing the outskirts of Cardiff," he said.

"Really?" Ianto asked sounding surprised. "You're coming in quite clear."

"This Archangel Network has really great reception."

He hummed in response and started to pack away his box.

"Hey," Jack said. "I'm on my way back to the Hub with Chinese, more then enough for two..?"

Ianto couldn't help a smile. "Yes, I'll be right there sir."

Jack growled. "Hmm, kinky Ianto. Will you call me that when I'm licking this sauce off your—"

"Yes," Ianto interrupted with a laugh. "That's quite enough. Some thoughts are better kept private. You never know who might be listening in."

A chill passed over him.

Jack laughed. "Well I now Tosh would have no complaints. Hurry over; I can't wait to loosen you up."

After Jack had hung up Ianto had stared at the phone for a long moment, the only sound in the flat was the ticking of the watch through the closed box.

You never know who might be listening in.

Ianto turned his gaze out the window and stared into the darkness, shivering.

* * *

Alright, so before the questions come piling in, here is a spoiler/info drop.

Ianto's father is the Master

Ianto's mother is Romana, who built he own sonic screwdriver (better then the Doctor's) and left him to go to E-space.

In the Year, I plan on building on how the two of them came together long enough to have an Ianto and the Master's death will be AU.

Don't you wish we could all have one?

Next: Out of Time


	13. A Memory and A Nightmare

**A/N: This is where things go differently than in the original. In the original Ianto didn't have any dreams about what the Master would do, in this he does? I also put a memory of Ianto's mother in here, where she talks briefly about Ianto's father, The Master.**

* * *

13. A Memory and A Nightmare

Ianto and Tosh were at his flat watching James Bond movies after their long day at work. Ianto could feel that Tosh wanted to ask something and even if he couldn't feel her emotions or hear her thoughts, he could see her fidgeting on the sofa and repeatedly looking at him.

"Just ask," Ianto said surprising Tosh and he saw her open her mouth to say something. "Tosh I won't get mad if you ask me a question."

"Well…it's just…I don't want to bring up bad memories for you," Tosh said trying to find the right words.

"Just because a remembering something makes me cry doesn't mean that it's a bad memory," Ianto smiled calming Tosh's nerves.

"I was wondering if you would tell me why your mother didn't like your father," Tosh said and Ianto sighed knowing she was going to ask that, especially after he told her about all the times his mom and dad would fight.

"I asked her that same question," Ianto said getting lost in a memory.

_Seven year old Ianto sat looking at the book his mom gave him for his birthday. It had pop out buildings and spaceships that amazed Ianto to no end. Ianto could hear yelling from the other room. It was his mom and dad fighting over him again. To the seven year old boy it seemed like his parents were always fighting and he didn't like how it made his mom cry. When Ianto heard his dad leave, he ran into the other room to see his mom crying. Ianto ran up to her and hugged her around the waist. _

"_It's alright mommy," Ianto said to her. _

_Ianto felt his mom lift him up into her arms and hugged him close to her. Ianto laid his head down on her shoulder and put his arms around her neck, hugging her back._

"_Mommy was do you hate daddy?" the curious Ianto asked. _

"_There are a lot of reasons sweeties,"his mom sighed running her hand through his hair, "and when your older and want to know why I hate your dad, you can ask me then."_

_Ianto nodded his head accepting his mom's answer before the hand running through his hair put him to sleep._

"She never told you?" Tosh asked after Ianto finished.

"I don't know why she didn't except that maybe she didn't want to ruin my perspective of him," Ianto said as tears ran down his face from his memories of his mom, "funny thing is my mom never got her chance to tell me why she hated my dad because she was killed saving me."

Tosh could see that this was hard for Ianto and decided not to ask any more questions because while Tosh was curious as to how his mom died, Tosh also knew that Ianto was slowly breaking and she didn't want to set him off. Tosh was going to find out later what happened but right now, they had a movie to get back to.

* * *

Ianto sighed as he lay down on his bed knowing that Tosh was going to want to know how his mom died sooner or later. Truth was Ianto only remembered his mom sending him back through the rift before she was grabbed and beaten. Ianto still didn't know what happened to his father and he really didn't care. While he loved his dad, Ianto was angry at him for how he treated his mom while she was alive. Ianto closed his eyes, letting sleep overcome him and the nightmares come.

_Ianto woke up to what he recognized as the Valiant. He read about it in records UNIT sent over. Looking up Ianto saw flying metal balls and then he heard a voice he never thought he would hear again. Turning Ianto came face to face with his father. Ianto then saw the Doctor, a young black woman, and Jack. Jack had been killed and the Doctor had been aged. Ianto saw the Doctor whisper something in the young woman's ear before she moved over to a revived Jack. Ianto watched with tears as Jack handed the woman now identified as Martha his Vortex Manipulator. He then watched in horror as the flying metal balls were sent to kill half the population before Martha teleported out. _

Ianto gasped awake, sweat running down his body. He held back the tears at what he dreamed his father doing, only deep down Ianto knew that it wasn't a dream but a vision and now he had to find a way to stop it.


	14. Out of Time

**14. Combat**

Ianto stood outside his apartment and stared into the interior of the vehicle Jack had parked in front of it. He had been expecting Jack to come over, as both had no family, so that they could watch Christmas specials and eat take-out while monitoring the Rift in a comfortable and sensible location. Jack had arrived, but reeking and silent, merely handing Ianto the keys before heading into the shower. Unsure what had happened with John, he went and checked on his car.

He needed a new one.

He stared at his car, the one possession that he had chosen for himself, and all he could see now was the impression of John's utter despair, Jack's desperation, and the lingering musk of death. One of his hands wavered over the driver's seat, as if feeling at an invisible body; he didn't dare lean in, unwilling to be comes trapped in whatever psychic residue John had left behind. The odor of the monoxide clung to the interior like rot, just as it clung to Jack, and in Ianto's opinion, seemed to make a mockery of the joyous nature of the season. He slammed the door.

Jack could buy him a new fucking car.

Jack was out of the shower when he returned inside, clean and fresh smelling, but still quiet and he silently watched as Ianto dug into the closet and threw clothes in his direction.

"I don't remember leaving stuff here," Jack cracked a weary smile and dressed, while Ianto closed the closet and leaned against it.

"You didn't," Ianto said. "I like to be prepared for anything." He narrowed his eyes. "But I wasn't ready for this. What happened with my car? Why does it smell like carbon monoxide?"

Jack sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Because that's how John committed suicide."

Ianto fixed is expression, giving nothing away.

"You found him?"

"I was there."

Ianto blinked at that; from Jack's guilt he would have assumed that his Captain had merely found the other man, but on finding out that John had actually killed himself in Jack's presence, he could see the weight that had settled around Jack's mouth and eyes and shoulders. Ianto wondered how close Jack had been to John when he had died, and if he needed to get the other man to a hospital or call Owen.

As he worried for his Captain something tickled at his mind, a flow of instances mostly forgotten as dismissible and unimportant when compared with resurrection gloves and alien invasions; like two separate splatter patterns where there should be only one, like being the only one immune to Carys' allure, like surviving Lisa's high voltage attacks.

A hundred little things that separately mean nothing, but together, could mean anything.

Like maybe he could trust Jack with his secrets after all.

He reached out a hand to his lover.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I be," Jack mumbled, side stepping the outstretched hand.

"You reek Jack, not like someone who was outside, but like a man who was inside."

Jack shifted ground, not a retreat exactly, but finding his footing. "So what? What are you implying here?"

"Nothing, I'm not implying anything. I'm just worried-" Ianto started but Jack was already continuing.

"Because the way I see it, you have far more secrets here then I do, and I'd look to yourself before you start throwing stones."

"What?" he gasped.

Jack raised his head, looking defiant.

"You heard me. You're not exactly a well of honesty and information, Ianto. Who knows what else you're hiding. This trust thing," he gestured at the space between them, "it works both ways."

Every emotion that Ianto had been experiencing- worry, concern, fear, and affection- shut down. Ianto had been prepared to tell Jack about his vision the night before but now he wasn't going to. Instead Ianto would find a way to contact The Doctor and explain the vision to him somehow. Ianto closed his emotions off, his eyes became closed off, face shuttered, and his body became stiff like it was at the Hub, professional, fake, masked. This was his survival technique; Jack blustered and flirted and shouted, while Ianto became accommodating.

"Quite right sir," he said and leaned over to pick up the discarded clothing. "I shall leave you to get some rest, and just pop this quickly into the wash, perhaps they will be salvageable." He went to leave the room and Jack grabbed his arm.

"Ianto—"

Blank. "Did you need anything else?"

The blues eyes that watched him shifted, turning a deeper color as hurt and resignation filled them; Ianto merely watched back and gave nothing away.

He had already tried and had it thrown back in his face.

"No," Jack said and laid back on the bed, gaze fixed on Ianto, who had turned from him, unable to look at him.

"Then I'll get these sorted."

He started to leave when Jack's voice called him back.

"Ianto."

He felt the shirt tear beneath his fingers.

Unbidden came memories of the Tower, of being young and alone, and exchanging one set of captors for another, only these one wanted to take him apart to see how he worked. At this moment, with Jack so close to his hidden truths, Ianto felt like it was happening all over, that each one of Jack's words was a manipulation to dissect him and take his past. Because that was at the heart of Jack's words, and Ianto would be damned before he was manipulated into giving away his confidences.

And despite all he had done for Ianto, Jack had yet to earn them.

"I had thought better of you, then to try emotional blackmail to get what you want." He cast Jack a look over his shoulder, and let some of the emotions he was feeling to fill his eyes.

Jack flinched.

"Some things are gifts, Jack. They cannot be bought, coerced, or bribed." He turned away. "Torchwood has my loyalty. It does not have my trust."

He shut the door behind him.

Later, when Jack came from the bedroom dressed in the clothes Ianto had cleaned, he stood behind the couch where Ianto sat and watched Charlotte Church's Christmas special without sound with a cup of untouched coffee in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Jack said.

"That doesn't make right." Ianto answered.

He didn't turn from the screen until long after Jack had left.


	15. Combat

**15. Combat**

Ianto didn't know what exactly the weevils were, or where they came from, but knew that on some level they were sentient. At the edges of awareness he had always felt hem, tugging, but not intruding; he used his shield like a porcupine's quills and warned them from getting too close; from anyone getting close.

But this had been different. It hadn't been an attack or a query; it had been a plea.

He had been drawn down to the cells by the echoing cry as it had bounced off his mental shields, not strong enough to break through, but audible enough to get his attention. Pain and sorrow flowed off the weevil, and Ianto hadn't known how long he had been standing in front of the cell before he had roused himself long enough to contact Jack and alert him to the new development. That was the trouble with any empathic or telepathic gift, the danger of getting caught up and swept away on someone else's emotions.

His hearts broke a little at the mournful sound the weevil made.

That seemed like a lifetime ago, before Gwen had decided it would be alright to sneak a little retcon (as if he wouldn't notice), before Owen had decided to find Nirvana at the end of a weevil's claws, and before Jack had decided to take the weight of the recent events on himself and head to the roof to brood.

Usually he would brood in Ianto's bed, but they weren't doing that anymore.

Their relationship had hit an impasse, because neither one was willing to admit to a mistake, or take that first step to reconciliation; a reconciliation that they both wanted. There were times when he would look up and find Jack watching him, a look of regret in his eyes, and yet he never made a move.

On some level Ianto was grateful of the split, as it gave him the space to untangle his own feelings on the matter. From all that he had learned about relationships, at the core was trust, and Ianto didn't know yet if he trusted Jack. Oh he certainly trusted the Captain with the planet, with his life, and his body; but did he trust him with knowledge of what he was? There were times when Ianto had liked to think so, when he was mentally begging Jack to just outright ask him, instead of dancing around the words and the questions, when all he wanted was for Jack to just take the choice from him, until all that was left was honesty.

Ianto was getting steadily sick of the lies.

Even his own.

But this was far more important than their relationship issues.

Ianto had waited until the others had gone and then made his way down into the lower levels, to the cells, and to the newly recaptured weevils. The weevil, Janet, stared at him through the clear wall of the holding cell and he could make out flecks on blood still around her mouth. He wasn't sure if it was hers (his?) or someone else's. He narrowed his eyes, focusing his mind like a needle, because overhanging each pulse of mental connection that flowed around the weevils was something else, something wrong, and it bothered him; it was like there was something riding underneath each wave, hiding, and waiting.

Ianto knew that the weevil heard and understood him when it blinked.

Weevils don't blink.

"Do you know what it is, what's coming?" he asked, pressing his hand flat on the clear divider. The weevil tilted its head and continued to watch him, eyes peering back at him. It let out a soft and mournful wail. Ianto leaned in closer, the cool seeping through his suit, and pushed his entire mind at the weevil, hoping to reach it, hoping to be understood on some level.

"If you can't tell me, can you show me?"

The weevil backed up and let out a growl that sounded eerily like agreement.

It then threw it's body against the wall, once, twice, three times, and although the action had made Ianto back up in shock and horror, his mind was also able to piece together that each impact was shaping a rhythmic pattern.

_Thrum thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum_

He found himself backing away and towards the door as the other weevils began to take up the beat, and soon all the cells were taking up the same rhythm. The beats grew louder until it was like he was in the center of a giant drum, and the sounds began to invade him, and his mind rebelled. He knew this; he had heard this before, but where? _Where?_ He tried to run but stumbled on the steps, and fell, and unwittingly found his hands closing over his ears.

"STOP!" he screamed, unable to take anymore, and the weevil's sudden stop made his head hurt more than the sound had.

Silence, save for his rasping breath.

He wasn't sure how long it was until he was able to pull himself up, reaching the Hub proper. He ran one hand over his face, wiping away the moisture, and he heard movement behind him. He felt a touch on his back and then, despite everything, he turned and folded himself into Jack's arms.

"Ianto, what is it?" Jack asked softly, resting his cheek against the younger man's, rubbing his back.

"I don't know," he whispered. He fisted his hands in Jack's coat.

"Jack," he gasped as the beat returned stronger than ever, and he moaned. "Jack."

Jack pulled back and looked alarmed.

"What is it?"

"It doesn't matter."

Jack pulled back and looked at Ianto, eyes searching. "What?" he whispered.

"In the end," Ianto continued, "it doesn't matter. I don't care if you lie, if you don't trust me, if this is all there is. I just..."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jack's, feeling them tremble beneath his, feeling Jack give in and pull him closer.

"I need you." Ianto told him.

Jack didn't question, but pulled Ianto towards his quarters and Ianto grounded himself in Jack's touch.

He let Jack's pulse drown out the drums


	16. Captain Jack Harkness

**16: Captain Jack Harkness**

Ianto wonders if this is price for keeping secrets.

He feels like he is losing ground, like everything he and Jack and all of Torchwood has worked for is slipping away and that it is no one's fault but their own. Despite the risks, despite the obvious manipulation and warnings, Owen still opened the Rift. And while Ianto was beyond ecstatic to have Tosh and Jack back safe, he can feel the upset in the Rift, like a volcano about to go off, and the steady movement of time has never seemed more like a countdown then it does at this moment.

He looks up from where he's cleaning Owen's blood off the floor to see Jack still pacing in his office, though from his vantage it looks more like dancing as he can hear the strains of Glen Miller through the door. Tosh had told him everything about what had happened, about the fear and the bombs and about the real Jack Harkness. Ianto wasn't surprised; he knew that Jack's secrets most likely eclipsed his own, and this one is most likely the smallest of the bunch, and then he is struck by the thought of how surprised he is that Jack let Tosh remember that detail.

He's only a little ashamed that he thought it in the first place.

With a final grunt he finishes, but stills, staring unmoving at the slight stains on his bare fingers. He shot Owen, and no matter how many times he had thought of doing it, before, it was all in jest. This hadn't been. He had been driven by many things, desperation, fear, anger, and duty, and had done his best to follow his Captain's orders; but in the end it had been Owen himself that had finally let him pull the trigger.

It was ironic that Owen was the one who had seen Ianto at his most honest.

Tea boy and part-time shag.

He supposed it was only the last vestiges of Jack's regard, and Tosh's affection for the bastard, that kept him from making it a headshot. Or somewhere still fatal but infinitely more painful.

It would have been so easy.

But that isn't him.

Even though these days it seemed that it was.

The music stops suddenly and he raises his head to see that Jack in now watching him. The man is pale and is visibly hurting, and in spite of everything, it touches Ianto that Jack would let him see this. Ianto also finds it ironic that they can be honest with each other through touch, through emotion, but not through words; never through words.

He drops the rag and makes his way to Jack, and together they fall to the office floor, the metal cold on Ianto's rapidly bared skin, and he lets Jack take what he needs. It's not easy, it's not tender, but it is necessary; each touch of Jack's hands, each thrust into him, each gasped breath is more telling than any word or shed tear. Afterward Ianto had pulled Jack's greatcoat over them, it itches, but it's enough and Jack allows the illusion of cover. They lie together, and he traces the cracks on the ceiling with his eyes, counting down the minutes, waiting until Jack is ready to speak. Ianto can be patient.

"Tosh told you."

He nods. "Everything."

"You're not mad?"

"I think that at this moment there are more important things to be concerned with than your fidelity."

Jack stiffens, taking the statement one way or another, but Ianto doesn't elaborate.

With weary limbs (Owen may be a utter berk but the little shit can fight) he stands and starts to gather his clothes, wanting to get away from the Hub and shower, because he can already sense the tension building in the Rift, and he knows that the entire team will just be called back in a few hours if they're lucky; sooner if they're not. Jack merely watches him but something in it makes Ianto feels as if he's tearing the remaining pieces of Jack apart.

"You're leaving," Jack says. Ianto sighs.

"No Jack, it is you who will be leaving." Jack sprung to his feet, face like thunder.

"What does that mean?"

"Just what it sounds like."

Ianto turned to leave but Jack reaches out and grips his arm, holding it tightly, not letting him escape.

"Talk to me Ianto. Tell me what's wrong."

"You want to know what's wrong?"

"Yes."

"You would have stayed with him, there, in that time. You would have abandoned us."

Jack blinks.

"Not abandoned, Ianto. Gone maybe, but not abandoned, and not by choice."

Ianto studies him and can see the traces that the other man had left on his lover.

"You're a liar, Jack Harkness, but I love you anyway." He grins as Jack let go of his arm in shock, but it was a bitter twisting of lips that looked nothing like a smile. "More fool me."

"Ianto," Jack breathed.

"It's not like this is a relationship, Jack. Its need and comfort and lust and affection. And while it may not be a relationship," Ianto brushed a finger over Jack's lips. "It is real. Just like what you felt for him."

He steps away from Jack, eyes catching the light reflecting off the Rift pool.

"But that's the thing, Jack. You would have left us, left us to face whatever is to happen, because something is going to happen. Because we fucked up and will fuck up." He turns back to Jack, who is biting his lip, as if he is regretting asking for this, as if he prefers the lies. "We need you here with us, but right now, you're not. And you don't want to be."

Jack lets go of his arm and Ianto can already feel the rising bruising. "This wasn't meant to happen," he breathed. "None of this."

"No," Ianto says as he leaves the office, knowing already that it will most likely be the hour of respite, and no longer. "But it did. Figure out where you want to be, Jack. Because you're useless to us until you do."

He stops at the Cog door and presses his face against it, and each pulse of the Rift throws him off kilter.

"Because time is running out."

This is the price for secrets and Ianto is done paying it


	17. End of Days

**A/N: **I felt a rewrite of this chapter and beyond was needed for various reasons including that upon looking over this chapter the original had Saxon in the Hub but then I somehow switched and had it where he wasn't. Also my head started making different turns to where I was originally starting to head. Hope this is a little bit better.

* * *

**17: End of Days**

Ianto was a Gallifreyan, a Time Lord, and the ebb and flow of time was like the beating of his hearts; soothing, continuous, and a certainty.

Apparently Jack was a certainty as well.

Torchwood Three was empty, the others gone to the Himalayas (he was the Tea boy, why would he go?) and Myfanwy safely away. He was alone.

He ran his fingers over the open morgue drawer, the cold that seeped into him merely adding to the cold that was already inside him. It had been Jack's. Even though more than a week had passed, he could still see his lover as he lay in death; gray and still, when Captain Jack Harkness was never still, and he remembered the anger when Gwen had refused to leave his side; didn't she have her own lover to attend to? Did she care for Jack as much as he did, or was to guilt for causing this that kept her glued to his side? And really, Ianto reminisced, what would he have done; it's not like he could have shared one of his regenerations with the other man. For humans, even one as extraordinary as Jack Harkness, dead meant dead. Except when it didn't. Except when it came to Jack Harkness. Trust the man to be extraordinary in all things.

And now he was gone, vanished.

With the Doctor.

He remembered the noise and how it rang through his very core in the aftermath of Canary Warf, like a haunting siren song that called to him to get up and leave everything and follow it to the horizon. It had felt like home, like all that he had been missing, but he had turned away. Knowing what he did, and what he heard about the Doctor, he can't fault Jack for leaving. After all the entire team had basically betrayed the man, and he knew that that had to hurt the man, and while he wanted to believe that it was simply their actions that caused his departure, Ianto knew it wasn't. The others had gone for coffee, but he had slipped away and returned to the Hub alone, and had stood at the edge of the Plass and watched Jack race towards the blue box, running as if the hounds of hell were on his tail, as if he was running towards his future; as if he was moving forwards to everything he's ever wanted. Box and Captain vanished and Ianto had entered the Hub, absentmindedly cleaning as he went.

_"Jack's gone, something's taken him." Gwen, desperate, looking at the CCTV and unwilling to accept the facts as they are._

_"He went willingly," his voice soft, but so sure, and it drew the other's attention to him._

_"He wouldn't just leave us!"_

_He just looked at Tosh and she started the footage again, and as one they watched Jack run, run away from them. He took her hand underneath the desk. Oh Cariad, he thought; he was your stability too._

_"Look, Gwen! Look at his face! Does he look like a man who's being kidnapped?" Harsh words, but he wasn't Jack; he wouldn't coddle her._

_"But why?" she whispered. "Why would he leave?"_

_"Perhaps he had no reason to stay," Tosh's soft and hurt voice. He held her hand tighter._

_Owen, angry, hurt, and defensive. "I guess you weren't that great of a shag then, eh Tea boy?"_

_With anger in his eyes he had turned to Owen and said, "It wasn't my gun that killed him."_

_To say that conversation hadn't ended well would have been an understatement; Owen had jumped him and, for once holding nothing back, Ianto had pinned him easily to the ground, applying pressure to his shoulder in just the right spot. Tosh had stayed back, but Gwen had squawked until Ianto, past his threshold, had spat out, "He never wanted to be here in the first place; look at the records, he was just killing time! You want him back, so do I, but he wanted to go and we have a job to do so we should fucking do it!"_

_They had stared at him in silence, and he let Owen go with trembling hands, and as he backed away from them he began to shake. "I don't think he's coming back. He found his Doctor."_

_Gwen, the only one beside him who understood, had sunk into a chair and finally accepted. Tosh had already begun to move to her computer, tracking the still hiccupping Rift, and it was Owen who moved to Ianto._

_"We just got him back," Owen said in a harsh whisper that held all the pain Ianto knew he had been feeling._

_"I know," Ianto said._

_And that had been their reconciliation._

Torchwood had continued on, without their Captain, and Ianto took on most of Jack's administrative duties (no one else knew how or wanted to as they were field agents and he was admin) which is why he was the one to notice what had been happening.

He stepped out of the morgue and into the Hub, moving to Jack's office. Laid out on the desk were photos and reports, puzzle pieces that he had been painstakingly putting together over the last two weeks, and as the election was only two days away he knew his time was up. He ran his fingers over CCTV stills of images citing VOTE SAXON, over polling info that was inexplicable at first but showed a steady rise of just how the election would go, and his informant (lovely woman) had gotten him the information on Lucy and Harold Saxon. Lucy hadn't caught his attention; Saxon had.

The first clear image that Ianto had seen of the man had sent chills up his spine and he remembered; a night in the country and the man who had come to him, a voice on the phone and the knowledge it held, both times curious and cautious and affectionate when there had been to cause. His fingers trembled as they ran over the stolen report, a police report that gave accounting of a vivisected body that had been found, one that had been too mangled to make a clear identity recovery, even though the lower half of the man's jaw had been found near the site. The site had only been several miles from the Beacons and the cleanup had been too polished to have been leftover from the cannibals. He remembered the men who looked like police but hadn't moved like them. He felt the shaking increase as he recalled the sensation that had come over him after that, the feeling that had grown around Christmas and when the Archangel network had gone up, the itching flashes of being watched and followed that faded with the same speed that they had come.

The Archangel Network.

Ianto had seen for the last while the bouts of movement in his and his coworkers fingers, the sudden burst of tapping, the rhythm that he was beginning to know very well. He had caught glimpses of each of them being followed as they left the Hub, had seen the men tail them everywhere, anyplace.

Which was when he had begun to plan?

The phone rang and he answered it.

"Clever Ianto, always so clever. You've made me proud." Saxon chuckled. "And sending your teammates away? Brilliant! I wonder if you knew what I'd do to them if I found them..."

Saxon paused.

"But of course, soon it won't matter where you sent them."

"They are out of range, and no danger to your plans. Why continue to go after them?"

Saxon's voice was dangerous. "Because they hurt you."

Ianto blinked. "What?"

"Did you think I wouldn't know? Wouldn't care? Tea boy, part-time shag, fuck-toy; invisible servant cleaning up their shit." The other man growled. "Oh, how I owe the freak."

"Who are you?" Ianto hissed, body trembling, hearts pounding, because he knew; like a kindled spark in him, he knew who this was. Drums and watches and the darkness had told him.

"I think you know, Ianto."

Ianto thought and finally it came to him at last. The voice was mostly the same with the indignity and insanity.

"Father," Ianto gasped, "What have you done?"

"Don't judge me son I did it for you," Saxon said.

"Don't you dare use me as an excuse to mess with the lives of the people I care about and that freak is my soul mate. I won't let you win Father, I hope you can forgive me," Ianto said hanging up and hurrying to warn the team.

The team had been warned and were luckily not even out of England yet so they were heading back to the Hub. Ianto knew that when they arrived that he would have to explain everything and he hoped that he didn't receive the same reaction as when Lisa happened. He sent a silent prayer that Jack, his soul mate, remained safe from his father and that his lover would forgive him.


	18. Chapter 18

**18. Mates **

Ianto sat on Jack's bed in his lair waiting for the inevitable. A week had passed since the start of their fight with his father and Ianto had to tell Gwen and Owen everything. Owen took it in stride, merely muttered until his breath about "Alien Tea-Boy" but Gwen concerned him the most at first. She was abrasive, hypocritical, judgmental and just plain annoying at times. She judged others unfairly and acted like she was better than everyone else. When she had been told about who Ianto was she tried having him locked up then she tried reprimanding him for not telling her but Owen and Tosh quickly squashed that down by telling her off. When it was revealed that Jack was his soul mate Tosh squealed, Owen grumbled, and Gwen freaked out at first. Slowly though Gwen was coming around which was a relief for Ianto because he honestly didn't need the headache. It was just a couple of hour ago that Tosh told him that she could bring Jack here by way of his teleportation strap. Ianto crawled down the bunker for fear of what would happen. He tensed up when he heard footsteps and the hatch opening Ianto knew that it could be only one person. He closed his eyes not wanting to see Jack's reactions but the immortal placed his hand on Ianto's cheek and the alien opened his eyes to come face to face with his mate whose eyes held love, slight anger, understanding, and lust.

Jack looked into Ianto's eyes feeling so many things about the current situation. He was angry at being lied to again but unlike with Lisa Ianto's actions didn't really hurt anyone. Jack also understood why Ianto lied after what Tosh had shown him and felt his love for the young man grow. Slowly Jack pushed the young TimeLord back on the bed until he was flat on his back with Jack over him. After that clothes came flying off and Jack gently prepared Ianto before entering him fully. This time their coming together was different than what it usually was because this time is wasn't fast, hurried sex but slow, passionate lovemaking. They came together at the same time with Jack biting a hicky into Ianto's skin. The two could immediately feel the bond form causing both of them to gasp and Jack collapsed on top of Ianto. After a while Jack pulled out of Ianto and lay down next to him, cradling the young man close. The pair knew that the they would need to talk eventually but right now they just wanted to be together and ignore the problems of the world.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Ianto lay on Jack's chest listening to his heartbeat and smiled at the love they just made not to long ago. The consummation of their relationship along with the knowledge that Jack knew the truth about him established a link between them in every way. They could communicate telepathically now, once they strengthened it anyway, and could feel each other. Jack was stroking Ianto's hair and the younger man could tell that the immortal wanted to ask questions and he deserved those answers.

"I don't know much about how my parents met in all honestly. I mean they were both TimeLords so I'm guessing it had something to do with that but I can't be sure since they never told me hell they hated talking to each other. The only reason they got along in the first place was because of me. My mother was Romana and she was a ruthless TimeLord but there were two facts that I always knew about her and that was that she hated my father and loved me. I remember my life was simple before all the chaos and destruction. At first there is only the sun and fields, wide open spaces and a secluded little house. There was my mother who is radiant and aloof and so loving towards me. Her voice speaks to me in only soft tones and she always tells me of adventures and journeys and all the things that make up the universe. At first she was all I had known which was okay because she was love and I was so happy.

"Time passes for me and a man comes, dressed in darkness and burning with strange vibrant ideas but his hands is gentle with me. My mother was uneasy and though she never showed it I could still feel it but she welcomes the man into our lives. She had left us alone in the field and he tells me of more wondrous things, planets and species and escapes and time. I always paid attention to the time that the man spins around me and I remember that my breath always caught, swept away in its pulse, and I'm left longing in the aftermath. When my mother saw that he meant me no harm she welcomes him into our home and he stays for awhile. I soon learn that this man is my father, The Master.

"My mother left me with compassion and love and loyalty. My father gave me the gift of wit and cunning and intelligence. My mother used to tell me with her warm eyes of what can be learned and what can be changed and what shouldn't be changed. My father always used to contradict her and he told me of things that can be undone and the things that can be controlled and of things that will be mine to know. My mother gave me books and laughter and touch. My father gave me time and fierceness and style.

"I remember that my mother always used to tell me that every choice is mine to make while my father always told me that time is mine to take. She gave me a tool that she told me was vibrant and opens possibilities and I remember that my father had this strange look in his eyes when he saw it but he never said anything to me probably because my mother would have killed him if he had. My father gave me a stopwatch and when I touch it the stopwatch burned very strangely in my grip and when I asked my father called it a relic from the future. I guess you could call us a family but it never felt like that. My mother always stayed and my father always left.

"I remember time splinters for me when other come and tear me away from my house, from my field, from my mother. Father isn't there to protect us and the men are bright and vibrant in robes and their hands hurt me as they hold me away from my mother. I was so afraid and so alone and when they speak I feel as if I am being torn. I soon understand that it is not me that they want but my parents. There was war coming and they need my parents to fight. My mother is so spiteful and angry when she speaks because she is angry that they are using me against her. Her words ring through my head every night. She said would he still help you if he knew what you intend to do? I used to think that she meant my father or me but I think she meant The Doctor but I cannot be sure because I never asked. They took me away and they say it's for my protection but I know that it isn't. I know that I am just ransom for my parents so that that they will cooperate and soon I am a prisoner in exile. I feel my mother in me pushing knowledge in my mind and I bury it, hiding it away, wrapped in layers of love. My mother was desperate and honorable and I know that she will do what they demand and I know she will return to me because she always does.

"In a deeper place that I never tell my mother about I hear my father rage against cooperating and I hear a vow that he will find me. I echoed through me like a drum to a beat and I reach toward it in comfort. The day I remember the most is the day I came to Earth. I was young, older than I looked but I was still a child nonetheless. The men were right about there being war upon us and when it came I used the knowledge that my mother pushed upon me and escaped. I opened a rift that navigated E-Space and followed the road that the Rift paved through time and space, the watch my father gave me clutched in my hand. I arrived alone, alive, small and shivering in the cold of night. I lay in the street for hours before I was found by someone. I could hear voices around me asking questions and intentions and I was soon bundled like linen and carried away.

"I cannot be sure of what happened next because it is something I never recall but reports say that I was malnourished and nearly comatose when I was found. Doctors said I was in a form of psychic stasis resulting from a massive mental shock which is fairly accurate I mean my race had just been destroyed or so I thought until now. The watch had been silent which added to the affect of me thinking that everyone was dead. I woke to find myself in a private hospital where I was treated with the best and most attentive care. I had a room to myself and while there was no one there my age I was never alone. It was then I realized that I just traded one prison for another one and this was how I came to know Torchwood. I shared some knowledge of my own free will because I knew that if I didn't that I would be tortured by I still held many secrets from them. I was still tortured anyway even when I told them what they wanted to know. They experimented on me and took parts of me out just to see what would regenerate and how fast. Later on after they had their fun and got tired of me I found it easy to slip under the radar since I had been in the tower for so long. If I saw an artifact I recognized I took it so that they couldn't get their hands on it and I enter the system to change my records so that by the time Yvonne Hartman comes in all she knows is that I am a low level archivist. Then I met Lisa and fell in love with her even though she wasn't my mate but she was the first to know that I was different and still accept me. You know what happened after that Jack and I'm so sorry about hurting you. I can't take it sometimes. When I met you I knew who you were but I had to hide it because she still mattered to me but then I hurt you and it broke me. I'm so sorry."

By the time Ianto finished his long tale both men were crying feeling each others emotions. Jack felt Ianto's grief, anger, sadness and the love he held for the captain in his heart. Ianto felt Jack's forgiveness, sadness and love. Jack held the TimeLord to him and let him cry his heart out over everything he had been through. Jack just kept up on his calming gesture of running his hand though Ianto's hair and held the young man tight against him. The two knew that they needed to get back upstairs to deal with everything but Jack knew that Ianto needed him because it wasn't just this that was bothering Ianto it was also the matter of the sound of the drums that rang in his mind and Jack knew that it was the work of the Master trying to get Ianto to him and he wouldn't let that happen, Jack would save Ianto from his father no matter the consequences.


End file.
